Chapters (32)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- The Last Day
- Actual Pants
- Totally in Control
- Extra Real
- Sealed Up Tight
- The Actual World
- All Settled
- A Certain Amount of Power
- Complicated
- A Softer Sort of Hum
- Looking Up
- A Quick Dip
- The Vine Realm
- Flaming Brains
- The Whole Story
- Far From Finished
- In the Junk Drawer
- The Whole (Other) Story
- The Sad Game
- Like Any Day
- A Change in the Weather
- Real Magic
- Conversation O’Clock
- Like Any Other Day
- Acknowledgments
- Back Ad
- About the Author
- Books by Laurel Snyder
- About the Publisher
“I read a lot of books,” I explained. “You know, about kids having adventures and stuff? I’ve sort of been training for this moment all my life. But I guess every kid fantasizes about running away from home, and . . .”
“No, Jasper said firmly. “They don’t.”
At the sound of her voice, I glanced up from my tangle of lights. “Huh?”
“Kids who might have to do it don’t fantasize about it at all. They plan.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. That . . . makes sense. Sorry.”
I was so curious about why Jasper was here. I wanted that story. I could feel it in my belly, like an actual hunger. But she’d made it clear I shouldn’t ask her. So I only looked back down at the lights, pretended to unsnarl a knot I’d already loosened.
“It’s okay,” said Jasper softly. “I got what you meant, and the lights—they’re perfect. Thank you.”
After that, we fell into a frenzy of cleaning, organizing, and prettying up. The room was sweltering, and the first thing I did was to try to open a window, but they were all swollen shut, so I didn’t say anything about the heat, just wiped the beads of sweat from my lip and kept going. It’s funny how being a little bit hot can be uncomfortable, but somehow, being super sweaty can be kind of okay, especially when you’re working hard, or running, or something like that. Like sweat is different when you earn it.
Using the spray bottle of cleanser and the paper towels I’d brought from home, Jasper and I scrubbed every inch of that kitchen, which was really the only room she seemed to be using. With a broken broom we found in a closet, we swept all the debris and dirt out the back door and right into a bush.
Together, we dragged the bed into the yard, where we gulped fresh air and whacked at the mattress with sticks until it was as clean as it was going to be. Then we dragged it back inside and made it up with a fresh set of too-large sheets and a sky-blue blanket stolen from the linen closet at my house. Carefully, gently, I tucked the blanket under the mattress just so. Much more neatly than I ever made my own bed.